


teamwork

by ironoxide



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Pre-Iron Man 3, Thor: The Dark World Spoilers, it starts off super dramatic and rapidly takes a turn for the dumb and senseless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironoxide/pseuds/ironoxide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“On 4th May 2011, in response to what is being called the Chitauri Invasion of Manhattan, Anthony Edward ‘Tony’ Stark, also known as Iron Man, was killed in action.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Tony lands hard, struggles to a sitting position, and swears. A lot.</i></p><p> </p><p>For the frostironfest. Request #40, prompt #2. Kinda-sorta-minor-maybe-ish Thor 2 spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one way trip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bohemianstarksody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bohemianstarksody/gifts).



> I apologise in advance for the 'chapters' in which there are literally two sentences here are my excuses: 1) I had a university interview last Tuesday and 96% of my time had been devoted to freaking the heck out about it, 2) I am chronically lazy and 3) my writer's block game is hella strong atm.
> 
> More apologies if this is super confusing and lame because the prompt is really really clever and I totally didn't do it any justice I'm just painting the walls with my apologies atm ugh.
> 
> but yes Merry Christmas ho ho ho~

_“I can close it. Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down.”_

“Do it.”

_“No, wait.”_

“Stark, these things are still coming.”

_“I got a nuke coming in. It’s gonna blow in less than a minute, and I know just where to put it.”_

“Stark, you know that’s a one way trip.”

_“Save the rest for the turn, J.”_

And then, muffled and distant: _“Sir, shall I try Miss Potts?”_

_“Might as well.”_

A brief burst of static. _“Come_ on _, Stark.”_

They’re all watching the wormhole like it’s going to tell them what to do. As if it’s been listening, as if it knows, there’s a flare of orange in the inky blackness, and Steve’s heart jumps into his throat and he says, “Close it.”


	2. tracker's offline

One second it’s there and the next it’s gone, and Steve hears himself say, “Stark,” but for a moment he’s not sure it’s his own voice. It’s like he’s not even there. It’s like he’s watching himself, watching someone who looks like him and sounds like him but with all of his emotions ripped out, severed like a head, unresponsive and silent and just barely there. He says it again: “Stark. Do you copy?” Somebody’s breathing in his ear, fuzzy and crackling.

“Does anybody have a visual?” Barton, calm as still waters.

“Negative.” Romanoff – and is that a tremble in her voice, or is it just distortion on the feed? Steve isn’t sure, he doesn’t know, he can’t quite tell. It’s a lot of hedging, because he’d rather hedge than not. He’d rather skirt the issue than stare it in the face. “No visual. Do we have any contact with Stark at all? Anybody?”

There’s a pause, tense and empty, and Steve wills a badly-timed, wry little joke to burst through his earpiece, but nothing does. Barton says, “Isolated his feed. No response. Tracker’s offline too.”

Thor says (and his voice is surprisingly soft, but it’s the most vehement punch in the gut Steve’s had since Bucky, since Coulson), “He did not make it.”

The first thought, the first rational, coherent thought that hits Steve when he really, properly realises what the hell just happened, is that somebody has to tell Pepper Potts. And God, he really doesn’t want to be the one to do it.


	3. a new page of her ledger

It’s the kind of quiet you only hear at funerals and after ceasefires. The quiet that abhors the presence of sound, the quiet that actively forbids it, the quiet that diminishes noise to silence purely because it’s there. Natasha, for a solid minute, allows the guilt to consume her.

 _She_ closed it, _she_ closed the portal, _she_ was the one who closed it, she could have left it open a second longer and then, maybe then, _only_ then he’d have been okay, with his remarks and his quips and his stupid goatee and his cocky smile and his brown eyes that crinkle at the corners it’s _her_ fault all her fault everything’s her fault _everything’s her fault_.

Natasha breathes in, once, and out. Her lips tighten almost imperceptibly. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and the guilt folds itself away into a dark corner of her mind, and _Tony Stark_ is scribbled on a new page of her ledger.


	4. shut up, loki

Stark Tower is a fucking mess.

In a wild swerve from the opinion of the general population, Clint actually thinks the building is a pretty neat place, so when they’re heading upstairs, walking past smashed windows and beat-up computers and all kinds of crap all over the floor, it’s kind of disheartening. The crunch of broken glass under his feet is one of those staple noises of a scene post-battle, and he’s never quite gotten used to the weird, deafening silence of it.

Tasha looks pale. Paler than usual, at least. Clint is pretty sure he knows why, but he knows far better than to say anything to her. She’ll talk in her own time. Rogers doesn’t look much better, either. They’re both wearing the same expressions – queasy, angry and a little numbed – and now that he’s thinking about it, Clint is pretty sure his own face won’t look much different. Maybe it’s only so quiet because they’re missing someone.

The floor that leads onto the balcony isn’t quite so deserted as the others. Occupying it is none other than Loki, lying in a crater of his own fetid defeat. For a moment, Clint forgets the wormhole, forgets the sceptre jabbing him in the chest, and allows himself to smile, even just a little, as he imagines the Hulk flinging Loki around like a ragdoll. Not nearly the same level of satisfaction as loosing an arrow through his eyeball, but close enough.

Loki’s started to excavate himself from the crater when he sees them crowding around him, Tasha with her guns out, Clint with an arrow loaded and pointing right in his face, and he has the actual fucking gall to crack a joke. “A little thin on the ground, aren’t we?”

Rogers’ shoulders square a little, but before he can snipe back, Thor cuts in with a succinct, “Shut up, Loki.” Clint’s almost proud. 


	5. one missed call

_One missed call._

Pepper doesn’t really feel anything. She doesn’t feel sad, or angry, or bitter, or even empty – although maybe whatever she _does_ feel just doesn’t have a word. How can any word even begin to describe the ache that is only just sinking through her skin, her muscle, her bones; rattling through her arteries, cruising leisurely through her veins, twisting and turning through sinew and marrow and curdling in her stomach like sour milk? How can any word possibly hope to understand the sick spiral of _something_ that has her sitting ramrod straight and still as a corpse?

_One missed call._

What is she even supposed to do? Where is she supposed to turn? There are so many meetings she’s set up, so many public appearances and press conferences and benefits that will never come to fruition, so many wasted hours and unsigned documents; so much useless crap she never got around to getting rid of; and the jolting cripple of fear when she remembers the half-finished emergency protocols almost unseats her. There’s so much to _do_ , and she’s wasted so much _time_ , and she can’t breathe, oh, God, she can’t breathe, she can’t _breathe_ —

Her elbow jerks and there’s a splintering of plastic and a horde of voices, and there’s a hand on her shoulder and someone talking, but she doesn’t understand the words through the haze of white noise blurring all sounds, and when she closes her eyes all she can see is a kaleidoscope of _one missed call_ scattered across the backs of her eyelids.

There has to be something. Something she can shout at, something she can rattle by the shoulders and _scream_ at until her throat is hoarse and her lungs are stinging, just so she can let everything out, just so she can _feel_.

Pepper curls into a ball and presses her knuckles into her eyes and does not cry for the rest of the plane journey, not even when the tinny sound of the television creeps through the hum of noise in her ears and whispers to her that Iron Man is missing, presumed dead.


	6. he's gone, ma'am

Ponytail swishing back and forth, shoes clipping smartly against the tiled floor, Pepper Potts somehow manages to keep pace with Steve despite the fact that he’s considerably taller than her and not wearing five-inch heels. He wants to say something, ask her how she’s doing, but he has a feeling she won’t appreciate it.

But it’s not really that she won’t appreciate it. It’s more that she’s tired of hearing it. Steve isn’t an idiot – he knows what it’s like to be in her position – but it’s still more than a little frightening to think back to the way she had been, and the way she is now. He remembers feeling her struggle against him, remembers the piercing scream of her voice as she twisted and turned in his grasp, hair flying, eyes burning, throat grating hoarsely. It had been, in a word, awful. But this? This is worse.

He says, to break the silence, “Nice weather out.”

She looks over at him for a moment and smiles a little. “Apparently it’s going to rain this afternoon.”

Steve’s face falls. _Nice job cheering her up, idiot_. He tries again. “The reparations in New York are going well, I heard.”

Pepper hums her agreement, and curls a strand of hair behind her ear. There’s a pause, and then she says, “Captain Rogers—”

“Steve. Please.”

A sigh. “ _Steve_. I know you’re…” She stops, and Steve has to back up a few steps before she continues. “I’m fine. Really. You don’t need to distract me, or anything. Honestly, I’m _fine_.”

“I know what it’s like to lose someone,” he says before she can say anything else, and her lips turn down a little. “I understand. All you want to do is put it in a corner and forget about it. But you can’t, and it’s not healthy to deny it.” Steve frowns, and drops his eyes away from hers. “He’s gone, ma’am. Tony’s gone. You have to accept it before you can move on.”

Silence. Absolute, unimpeded, disconcerting and utterly terrifying silence.

And then, coolly, she squares her shoulders, eyes narrowed, and says, “Tony Stark is _not_ gone. It’s not that I refuse to believe it; it’s that I know it’s not true. He’s missing until you can _prove_ otherwise.” She turns smartly on her heel and starts to walk away, calling without looking back, “And maybe you should think about taking your own advice, Captain. _You_ never said he was dead either.”


	7. killed in action

Pepper steps up to the microphone, clasps her hands neatly in front of her, and starts to speak.

“On 4th May 2011, in response to what is being called the Chitauri Invasion of Manhattan, Anthony Edward ‘Tony’ Stark, also known as Iron Man, was killed in action while working as an advisor to the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, also known as SHIELD. Stark Industries is at liberty to reveal that he was utilising his Iron Man suit to carry a weapon of mass destruction through what scientists have termed the ‘wormhole’, and it was this act that ultimately ended the invasion.

“In order to prevent any damage from the nuclear blast resonating through the wormhole to Earth, the wormhole itself was closed before Mr Stark was able to escape. He did not survive the journey.

“Tony Stark was a brilliant and gifted man, whose selfless dedication and determination will never be forgotten. Aside from responding to several global disasters, he pioneered arc reactor technology, and in his name Stark Industries will continue to work on developing clean, sustainable energy for future generations.

“We request that all friends and acquaintances of Mr Stark are treated with the respect and dignity that they deserve in this turbulent time. Thank you for listening.”


	8. hangover

Tony lands hard, struggles to a sitting position, and swears. A lot.

Vague throbbing at the back of the head. Movement limited. Vision blurred. Dizziness. Muscles sore. Various aches and pains flaring to unwelcome life. Prognosis: one _hell_ of a hangover.


	9. tony, look who it is

Tony’s been walking aimlessly for what feels like a decent percentage of his life when he first sees the aliens.

He’s not even freaking out, not _really_ , either because he’s seen enough aliens to last a lifetime or just because the last thing he ate was a blueberry and that was on the helicarrier and he’s fairly certain he could be hallucinating.

The aliens themselves are tall, blue and terrifying. They’re pretty far in the distance, the three of them, and they don’t see him, but he sees them and ducks immediately behind a convenient rocky outcrop, heart throbbing painfully. They’re strolling with the surefooted gait that makes it glaringly obvious they know exactly what they’re doing and where they’re going, and Tony’s about to start waving at them and yelling for help when he sees the spear-like weapons slung around their belts or over their shoulders and decides it’s probably a safer bet to continue wandering around in the wilderness than trying to make friends with the Ice Na’vi.

After they’ve melted sufficiently into the endless horizon, Tony starts walking again, and the entire experience has definitely been exacerbated because he’s starting to delude himself into a ridiculous phobia of the things even though he has no proof (other than the fact that they’re wearing next to nothing on this sub-zero shithole of a planet, and, y’know, the huge fucking spear things they’re schlepping along with them) that they’re dangerous. Anyway, somewhere between five and ten minutes after he’s started angrily stomping his way through the snow again, he’s convinced himself that they’re all homicidal maniacs with a particular thirst for human blood.

So it’s really no surprise that when a huge tube of light spears from the star-dotted sky and something tall and blue and definitely terrifying comes hurtling out, Tony’s only reaction is to yell, “I’m too young to die,” power up every working weapon on the suit, and aim them all squarely at the unwelcome visitor.

The visitor himself stretches to his full height, red eyes meeting Tony’s brown, and says, looking genuinely surprised for maybe half a second before a mask of boredom slides over his face, “Well, isn’t this a turn up for the books.”

“Um,” Tony says intelligently. He blinks. The alien is wearing green and black leather, and the weird feathered hair is kind of familiar, and very suddenly the truth of the situation slaps him on the back of the head, shakes him by the shoulders, performs a Broadway production of _Tony, Look Who It Is_ right in front of him.

It’s _Loki_.


	10. by the nine, do you ever shut up?

“The hell are _you_ doing here? And why are you _blue_?” Tony asks, and then a terrible thought strikes him. “Wait, am I dead? Is this hell?”

Loki’s lip curls. “This wasteland is most certainly _not_ —”

“I mean, obviously, all the crap about fire and brimstone has probably been _kinda_ exaggerated, but this is just a diametric opposition. Then again, not sure which I’d prefer. Mount Doom or winter wonderland. Tough call, it’s gotta be said. I guess, if it had to be one or the other, I’d probably—”

A worn-out sigh. “By the Nine, do you _ever_ shut up?”

And Loki turns promptly on his heel, marching off. Tony watches him go for a few seconds, then his brain kicks into a gear and he stumbles through the snow after him.


	11. or words to that effect

Maybe it’s that Loki’s legs are inhumanly long, or maybe it’s just that Tony’s are way too short, but for a while Tony has no fucking idea where Loki’s stormed off to. All he has by way of reference is the greyish kind of smudge a decent way ahead of him that he’s reasonably sure is Loki. Blue Loki, which is weird. He has to admit he didn’t see that one coming.

So clearly something’s been happening back on Earth, or Asgard, or wherever the hell they took Loki after New York. Probably Asgard. Thor kept whining on about how he had to “face Asgardian justice”. Point is, Tony knows they won, because alien invasions don’t continue if you blow up their base with a nuclear bomb and close the portal they were invading you through. That’s just logical. Whatever this is, whatever brought Loki to the same desolate stretch of nothing that Tony’s been calling home for the past however many days, it isn’t an escape attempt.

Who’d want to escape here anyway?

Unless it’s a bluff, and he’s escaping here because it’s the last place anyone would think to look. In which case, people would probably look here too. But then they’d reason that Loki knows they’d look here _because_ it’s the least likely place for him to be, so he wouldn’t hide here. So then they wouldn’t look here. But then they’d have to, because they’d guess that he’d hide here because he shouldn’t hide here because it’s the least likely place for him to be so they wouldn’t look for him there so he would hide here so they’d have to look for him. Or words to that effect. And now Tony’s hopelessly confused and the grey speck in the distance has vanished.

Shit.


	12. asking for posterity

Tony is trying to remember whether it’s _can you do the fandango_ or _will you do the fandango_ when he stumbles across Asgard’s Most Wanted sitting cross-legged in the middle of a frozen lake or something, idly scratching trenches into the surface beneath him with his fingernails.

Tony says, “Hey, Jake Sully, wanna double-team this whole stranded-on-an-alien-planet thing?”

“I know not what you mean,” Loki replies. He sounds fairly uninterested.

“Pool our resources?”

Loki glances over at him and Tony wonders if he’s sucking on a lemon, because people don’t usually make faces like that unless they’re eating something especially sour.

“Y’know. Band together. Rise up against adversity. Other stuff Thor would probably say about teamwork.”

Loki blinks stoically. “You’re asking me whether I want to work together.”

“Yes.”

“With you.”

“Yes.”

He seems to consider the proposal. “Not particularly.”

“Well,” Tony sighs, “it was a long shot. You’re clearly having a lot of fun sitting here mapping out France after the First World War. I’ll just leave you, then.”

“That would be much appreciated.”

“Glad I could help, you massive asshole.” And, ignoring the blatant rejection, he stomps over to Loki and throws himself down beside him.

“I thought I said no,” Loki asks mildly.

“I was just asking for posterity. So, what’s the first point of call, comrade?”


	13. the same cave

The whole teamwork thing doesn’t really pan out all that well at first. Everything’s going great, they’re getting along just fine, and then Tony says they should head one way and Loki insists on another, and then they’re storming off in opposite directions, yelling things like, “Fine!” and “If you say so!” and “Oh, I say so!” and “I know, _I can hear you saying so_!” over their shoulders at each other.

*

It doesn’t take long before they find each other again, because apparently they both had the same idea to take refuge in the same cave. There’s a hell of a lot of, “I was here first!” and “Prove it!” and “I don’t need to because we both know I was here first!” and eventually Loki just sighs and says, “If you swear that you will not talk constantly, we may share the cave.”

Tony takes that as a victory.


	14. beyond mere coincidence

“Hey, Loki?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you blue?”

“It is my punishment from the Allfather.”

“Pretty lame punishment if you ask me.”

“I did not ask you.”

“True.”

Silence falls slowly.

“Why are you here, Stark?”

“No fucking idea. Went through the wormhole, landed on this shitty rock.”

Loki’s eyes are neon in the dark. “You should not have ended up here at all.”

“ _Really_. Y’know, if you hadn’t told me that, I’d never have even—”

“This is beyond mere coincidence. There is something else at work here.”

“Well, great. That sounds sufficiently creepy. Thanks for that. When I wake up from a freaking nightmare screaming about something else being at work, remember it’s your fault.”

Loki lapses into silence for a long time, and Tony wonders for a moment if he’s fallen asleep. And then: “It is the Convergence. I am sure of it.”

“The Convergence. Wow. Hell. That’s… That’s big.”

“Indeed it is.”

“Hate to be a buzzkill but what’s the Convergence?”


	15. feathered hair and sarcastic quips

Tony leaves the cave for five minutes to pee and when he gets back there are two Frost Giants (or Jotunn, whatever they’re called, Loki’s never very specific) towering over Loki and swinging various weapons fairly threateningly.

One of them grates out, “You are a deserter, _runt_.” And Loki’s expression is still bored, even though he’s surrounded by things taller than him wielding weapons and he’s armed with nothing but his feathered hair and sarcastic quips, so Tony does the only thing he can think of in a situation like this.

Powering up the one working repulsor (the others haven’t been working since he landed), he says, “Hey, you big blue bastards. Pick on someone your own size,” and lets loose a torrent of blasts.

Once they’re sufficiently disposed of, Loki sniffs, pushes himself to his feet, and says, “More will come.” And then, as they’re walking out of the cave, “Couldn’t you have come up with something better than ‘pick on someone your own size’? I’m embarrassed on your behalf.”


	16. tastes kinda like chicken

The thing is, they work well together. And it’s kind of scary.

Like, for example. Day two of teamwork. Loki gets sick of Tony saying he’s hungry, so he finds a hive of weird animals and delights in killing a couple and bringing them back home like he’s Gollum and Tony’s Frodo and he’s bringing dead rabbits back to camp on the marshes. At which point Tony rapidly takes on the role of Sam and gets a nice fire going with the repulsor and a few dried out twig-like things, and they don’t have to eat the stuff raw. Teamwork tastes kinda like chicken.

Day four. Loki says he has a really fucking great idea about getting the two of them off the planet and back where they don’t have to eat the weird animals any more. Tony’s all for that because, well, there’s only so much one man can take when it comes to weird animals that taste kinda like chicken. Brainstorm in the cave reveals the fact that all they really need to get the hell off the planet is a rudimentary compass and some patience. Tony can deal with the compass. Teamwork.

Day seven. Eight, maybe. Tony remembers, suddenly and kind of painfully, it was his birthday a couple days ago, at least on Earth. Loki says, “Many happy returns,” and gives him an extra slice of weird animal in recompense for missing his party. _Teamwork_.

Day whatever. Tony’s cannibalised the working repulsor to fit together the compass, which looks more or less something like his first attempt at a self-made alarm clock when he was, like, four or something. Loki is appropriately fascinated, which is in itself a morale boost, and Tony finishes in double quick time. Fucking teamwork.

Day something. Tony says, “Once you get past the whole thing where you tried to subjugate humanity, you’re really not that bad,” and Loki actually fucking smiles. Teamwork level: approaching maximum.

Day Alpha. The compass is idly minding its own business, and then the needle suddenly, rapidly swings somewhere to the right. Tony does a weird kind of squeal in a potent mixture of relief and excitement, and Loki pointedly chooses not to make fun of him for it. Teamwork level: dangerously high.

Still Day Alpha. They’ve been walking for, like, an hour or something. Loki suddenly throws his fist up in the air like soldiers in action movies, and Tony walks right into him because he may or may not have been staring at the swing of Loki’s hips while he walks. It’s more than a little mesmerising, okay? So Loki says, “Here. It’s here,” and points at this fizzling distortion in the middle of nowhere.

Tony says, “I could kiss you.”

Loki says, “Please don’t. I doubt you’ve brushed your teeth in a while.”

He grins, steps towards the distortion and disappears. Tony follows him after thirty seconds’ deliberation, where he genuinely wonders if he should trust Loki after all. Then he shrugs. If Loki wanted him dead, he’d have been dead. Besides, teamwork doesn’t count for nothing.


	17. greenwich mean time

Tony falls out of nowhere and lands in the middle of what looks a lot like Greenwich, which is fairly annoying. Also annoying is that Loki is nowhere to be fucking seen.

After stumbling around for a while, the suit heavy and cumbersome, someone asks him, first if he’s Iron Man (he says, “Who the hell else would I be?”), and then if he wants a hand. He says, “Yeah, actually. Where’s the nearest phone booth? Also, have you seen anyone tall and blue and angry walking around?”

The first question’s answer: turn left and walk straight on. Big red box. Can’t miss it.

The second: an emphatic _no_.

 _Teamwork_ , Tony thinks, somewhat half-heartedly.


	18. many happy returns

It’s been over a year since New York. Since the wormhole, the planet, Loki. Steve almost cried when he saw Tony. Pepper just smiled, like she was saying _I told you so_. Clint said something like, “Man. Fuckin’ aliens, right?” One night, Natasha found him in his workshop in the Tower, and they shared her vodka, and her earnest eyes rather than her wry words told Tony she was sorry she closed the wormhole. He told her he forgave her, and she smiled.

So one night, Tony’s awake in his workshop, fucking around with a new design for the StarkPhone – it’s been, like, three days since his birthday and he always gets ideas when he gets pissed as fuck and sings karaoke – when something prickles on the back of his neck. He turns, and there’s something small and weird and furry laid on the floor with a note pinned to it, and on it in spiky cursive is written:

_Many happy returns._

_—L_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet this is the first fic you guys have ever read where the only semblance of frostiron is the corpse of an alien animal with a note pinned in it. merry christmas!


End file.
